


From Void, Life

by pocket_infinity



Series: Flame & Frost, Heart & Soul [6]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_infinity/pseuds/pocket_infinity
Summary: Grimm had done it again. He'd gotten the Radiance and the Pale King to sit down and settle their differences. Granted, it took a little more... force to get them to the table than he would have liked, but it was done. And now his love could abandon that horrible Vessel plan he'd thought up.Unfortunately for Grimm, that plan had gotten further than expected...
Relationships: Grimm & The Radiance (Hollow Knight), Grimm/The Pale King (Hollow Knight), The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: Flame & Frost, Heart & Soul [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857532
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	From Void, Life

“Alright,” Grimm said, standing up and planting his hands on the intricately carved wooden table. “Is it settled, then?” He asked the two gods, glancing between them.

“Go over the terms again, one last time,” the Pale King said, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, I’d like that, too,” the Radiance half-shouted.

“Right. So, King, you’re keeping the vast majority of Hallownest, given that a majority of it was not her territory to begin with, and all of your subjects will be released from her control,” he said to the wyrm before turning to the Radiance. “And all citizens of Hallownest will vacate Crystal Peak and most of Kingdom’s Edge, excluding areas controlled by the Hive and the corpse of the Pale King’s original body. The Resting Grounds are to be declared neutral territory due to the fact that, although it is traditionally an important place for moths, many of Hallownest’s dead are buried there. Clear?”

“Clear,” the King responded firmly, folding his upper hands on the table in front of him. “We accept this arrangement.”

“Hmph,” the Radiance said, still obnoxiously loud. “I’ll accept, albeit reluctantly.”

“Great!” Grimm said, smiling as he lifted his hands off the table, smiling out into the swirling mass of red and black smoke and flame around them before raising one hand and twirling a finger in the air. A black door appeared behind him before swinging open to reveal a red glow. “Glad I could get both of you to talk to each other.”

“We weren’t given much of a choice,” the wyrm said as he stood up and moved towards the door.

“You  _ did _ pull both of us into this with no warning,” the Radiance added.

Grimm shrugged. “All’s well that ends well.”

“That is patently false,” the King replied before stepping through the door.

“Now that he’s gone…” the Radiance said. “I know that I can often sound angry or harsh-”

“Mostly because you’re constantly screaming,” Grimm cut in.

“-but I sincerely appreciate this. Just try not to be so sudden, next time,” she continued, patting his bright red horns as she moved towards the door before pausing and lowering her volume to an acceptably indoor level. “Do you truly think that the wyrm will keep his word?”

“Will you keep yours?” Grimm raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll start the moment that I return to my realm,” she said softly.

“Then yeah,” Grimm said. 

Silence fell between them for a moment as they simply stared at each other, blinking.

“Fine, I’ll say it: I wish we talked more,” Grimm stated, rolling his eyes.

“So do I,” the Radiance replied with a smile before slipping through the door. It spiraled into itself before disappearing into a single point. Grimm sighed, waving his hand and letting the table disappear. It was over. Finally, finally over—well, hopefully over, but close enough. He closed his eyes and felt everything close in around him.

Grimm found himself hanging upside-down in his tent when he woke.

“Huh,” he said plainly, sticking out one of his legs before letting himself flip towards the ground and land with the grace of the dancer that he was.

“Mrm. Are you awake, Master?” He heard Brumm ask from outside the tent.

“Yeah,” Grimm responded hesitantly as he walked towards the entrance, finding Brumm standing right next to it. 

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t disturbed,” Brumm said flatly.

“Thanks,” Grimm said, his eyes darting away. “I’m gonna go visit the King now…”

“Mrm. Have fun,” Brumm said.

“Thanks,” Grimm said again before snapping his fingers and vanishing.

He reappeared in one of the numerous halls of the palace, the quiet sound of his teleport echoing along the walls. Now, where would his wyrm be at this hour? He checked his wrist, only to find that he’d forgotten his watch. Of course. Well, he couldn’t hear any footsteps, so the retainers weren’t moving, so it couldn’t be lunch or court hours. That left early in the morning or late in the afternoon—past five but before ten, probably, since Brumm was still awake. But the retainers would’ve been up and about for breakfast if it were early, so that left just the late afternoon, meaning that there were two places that the King could be: either his office or his workshop.

Grimm snapped his fingers, disappearing in another puff of smoke before manifesting in the wyrm’s office, finding it uncannily silent and empty before snapping again and appearing in the workshop.

He shuddered as he felt the cold drift of airborne void on his shell before squinting to see through it, swiveling his head around in the nearly pitch-black space. Gods, how much void had the King gone through in his research? Grimm coughed before turning around, finding the singular source of light in the room, albeit dimmed by the void: his wyrm.

“Oh. Hello,” the King said rather coldly.

“Hi,” Grimm said with another cough. “Gods, how do you  _ see _ in here?”

The wyrm flared his glow in response.

“Fair enough,” Grimm replied, stepping closer and waving away a bit more of the void as he hugged the King. “But can we get out of here? It’s beyond stuffy.”

“Not… not right this moment, love,” the wyrm said with a belated sigh as he rested his hands in his upper arms, the lower two folded into his lap, and his tail was curled tightly around the leg of the chair he sat in.

“Hey,” Grimm said, coming around to his side, “what’s the matter? Things are fixed, Radi isn’t a threat anymore. You don’t have to go on with the vessel project anymore. Your children are safe.”

The King visibly swallowed, merely looking at Grimm with heavily weighted eyes.

“What?” Grimm asked, rubbing the wyrm’s shoulders. “You can talk to me.”

“It’s too late,” the King said weakly.

“Too late for—wait,” Grimm said, pulling away as his eyes widened. “King,” he said, his tone low and stern, “too late for what?”

“Vessels,” he replied, his voice barely even a whisper.

Grimm froze. “What?” He said.

“We’ve already-”

“No, wyrm, I fucking  _ know _ what you meant,” Grimm said, standing up and looking down at the King. “But I want to know what the  _ hell _ made you go through with that after I not only told you that it was a  _ stupid _ and  _ horrible _ plan, but that I would solve it myself with just a little more time!” He shouted.

“Grimm…” the Pale King responded, his voice shaking.

“No, ‘King,’ I want you to tell me right goddamn now!  _ What _ made you think that that was a good idea?! I  _ warned _ you, I  _ told _ you about the consequences, I  _ told _ you that it would  _ never _ be worth it, and what did you do? You went on with it anyways!” He slammed his fist down on the metal table, making every single object jump. “So tell me why! What  _ possible _ reason could you have?!”

“W-we,” the King gulped. “We needed a failsafe.”

“A failsafe?! A  _ failsafe _ ?! Are you  _ kidding me _ ?” Grimm said, crouching back down to the wyrm’s level. “Really? Really, that’s the  _ best _ reason you had?”

“Grimm, please!” The King shouted, finally lifting his head out of his hands and revealing the tears streaming down his face. “This already stings as it is, so I don’t need you shouting at me to hammer it in some more!”

Grimm was quite literally shaking as his eyes glowed with the heat of fire as he held in a million words before saying only two of them: “How many?”

“Just one,” the Pale King responded, setting his head back into his hands.

“Pull it out,” Grimm said.

The King sighed. “It’s probably already-”

“I don’t care. Pull. It. Out.” He reiterated. “Now.”

The wyrm nodded. “I’ll… the team, they should still be near the site. I told them to monitor it.”

“Go tell them right now; I’ll teleport you,” Grimm said. “And where’s your wife?”

“Grimm, please, don’t take this out on her. It- it was my idea.”

“Yeah, and she approved of it. Where’s the site?” Grimm asked, gripping one of the King’s arms with an unintentionally scorching hot hand.

The wyrm wiped his eyes with his robes. “The big door with my symbol on it. I think I showed-” he started, but Grimm had already teleported them.

The two appeared in a puff of red smoke, startling one of the four researchers there so bad that she fell over.

“Now where’s your queen?” Grimm asked.

“Probably her g-gardens,” the wyrm responded, rubbing his arm as Grimm let go, and the Troupe Master was gone a moment later.

“Y-your majesty,” one of the researchers said, bowing briefly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

The King took in a deep breath, steeling his voice as he rubbed his eyes. “The situation with our opponent has been handled via alternative means. The test subject is to be removed immediately.”

“O-of course,” another one of them said. “It should be out in less than 24 hours-”

“You have 12,” the wyrm responded.

“Yes, my liege. Where should we put it?” He asked.

“Hidden right here. Station a Kingsmould and one of yourselves as guard until further notice.”

“Right away, my lord.”

“Good. You will all be rewarded in full when this is finished, assuming that the subject is undamaged.”

“V-very well,” the one that Grimm had scared replied.

“Should you finish early, have a messenger deliver a letter to us. We will be waiting,” the King said coldly before turning and walking back towards his palace.

He found his Lady in tears in their shared bed with a thoroughly stern-looking Grimm standing in the corner, his arms crossed as he trilled his fingers along his elbow and scowling as the King entered.

“Hope you’re happy,” he said.

“I-I’ve set the team to work,” the wyrm replied as he slipped into the bed to hold his root. “It’ll be out in 12 hours or less. There’ll be a letter if they finish early.”

“I’ll be in your office waiting for it if you manage to stop crying over your own stupid choices,” Grimm responded as he marched out of the room, leaving the root and wyrm to wallow with nothing but each other.

He shoved open the door to the King’s office, wincing as the clang of it slamming shut echoed around the room. Why did the wyrm have to make everything out of metal? Grimm yanked the chair out from the desk before flipping it around and taking a seat, his leg bouncing up and down as he crossed his arms. A few minutes passed before he started to smell the smoke from the chair he was sitting in, and he took a deep breath, letting himself cool down. What felt like an eternity passed before the scent vanished, and Grimm finally let his eyes close, tuning himself in to the ebb and flow of the minds around him—not enough to read all of them, but enough to feel their links to each other—and stretching his focus out farther and farther until he reached Crystal Peak.

_ Sister? _ He asked.

_ Brother? _ She responded.  _ Are you alright? I could feel it from here. Has the wyrm done something? _

_ Do you always have to accuse him? _ Grimm asked.

_ I worry for you, is all. _ She replied.

_ Thanks. _ Grimm smiled.

_ Of course. You are my brother; what sort of sister would I be if I didn’t care? _ She stated.  _ Now what’s bothering you? _

_ Well, you were right. It’s the Pale King, _ he responded.

_ What has he done to you? _ The Radiance asked frantically, and Grimm winced at the intensity.  _ Apologies, _ she thought.

_ It’s fine, it’s fine… _ Grimm replied.  _ It’s just- he hasn’t done anything  _ to me _ specifically…  _

_ But he has done something that hurt you by consequence? _ She asked.

_ Yes, _ Grimm thought.  _ I… I don’t think it’s my place to state all of the details—and don’t go poking around for them—but it’s a family matter- _

_ The Troupe? _ She asked.

_ No, not the Troupe, a matter of  _ his  _ family, _ Grimm replied.

_ He has a family? _

_ He was going to, _ Grimm thought.  _ But I don’t wanna talk about that. I just don’t want to be alone right now. _

_ Of course, brother. What do you wish to talk about? _

_ Anything,  _ he replied.  _ How about your moths, to start? _

_ Well, they’re starting to remember me beyond just Seer, and with all those negotiations worked out, I’m much more comfortable asking Seer to help me with that, now that I don’t need to worry about her getting arrested… _

The two continued on, talking about the future, her plans for her own kingdom—Brightnest, she would call it—how excited she was to start, how she’d already begun to regret her choices and the ideas she was planning to execute, how she was going to make it up as best she could, and how Grimm could help her get a corporeal form. Hours upon hours passed, and neither of them noticed. Grimm smiled for almost all of the conversation.

Eventually, though, a courier did arrive, letter in hand, and Grimm had to cut the line with his sister before silently taking the letter and nodding at the courier as she left. He sliced open the envelope with a claw before pulling out the paper inside, flipping it open to read.

_ My Liege, _

_ The subject of the experiment has been removed without incident. We have sent this letter immediately, just as your majesty requested, and we hope that it arrives swiftly. _

Grimm closed it, casually tossing it onto the desk behind him as he got up and walked through the door, continuing on to the wyrm’s bedroom. He slipped in quieter than he’d previously left, finding both the king and queen resting in their bed, facing opposite directions. The Pale King looked at Grimm, eyes wide and tired with the aftermath of tears strewn across the rest of his face.

“Letter arrived,” he said. “They’re done.”

The Pale King nodded, slipping out of bed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Let’s,” the White Lady replied, her tone not so much cold as simply dejected and apathetic. A mother with no tears left to cry. She, too, pulled herself out, and both of the royals made their way over to Grimm, who was already holding out both of his hands. The three of them vanished in red smoke a moment later. Another of the researchers was startled when they appeared at the site, and Grimm couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the circumstances.

“What?” He asked. “It’s at least a little funny.”

“We suppose you’re right,” the wyrm said, letting go of his hand.

The root nodded in agreement. “Well… where is it?” She asked one of the researchers.

“Just over here, my queen,” she replied, leading them to a group of hastily put up black curtains before holding one of them open for the three gods to enter.

“Thank you,” the root replied as she stepped in.

“Thanks,” Grimm said.

“You have our thanks,” the Pale King said. “And you’re dismissed. We will have your rewards delivered to the Archives when we find time. Leave the Kingsmould here with us.”

“Right away, my lord,” she replied, letting the curtain fall.

The three of them finally turned to look at the egg, tainted an inky black with only marginal reflection of light, and bits of void dripped from it. Scraggly roots hung loose from the side, probably ripped loose from wherever they’d managed to lodge themselves down below. It was quiet, almost too quiet, the only sound being the vague shuffling of researchers outside of the curtains as they packed up their equipment.

Grimm stared at the egg, his eyes glowing brighter every second as his shell heated up until he let himself take a deep breath, cooling both of them as he held the fire in his core at bay. There was no point in that now. The White Lady had to force herself to look at it, taking nearly all of her will just to gaze upon what would have been her child. What little of her will wasn’t used to look at the egg was instead diverted to mentally hurling insults at herself every second. The Pale King looked at the egg as if he wasn’t looking at anything at all. His face was simply… dead, like he wasn’t even present. Maybe he wasn’t.

Grimm broke the silence with a sigh as he vanished in smoke, appearing a moment later with a small bench before setting it down and sitting on it. The White Lady took a seat next to him a few moments later, and the King followed after about a minute. They returned to a cold silence as they all kept staring.

“What would have become of them, do you think?” The root asked quietly.

“I wish we could’ve found out,” the wyrm replied, several moments of silence passing after.

“They’re not dead yet, you know,” Grimm said, and the pale royals turned to face him, almost perfectly synchronized.

“Aren’t they?” The Pale King asked.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to pull it out if I thought there wasn’t at least a  _ chance _ , my wyrm,” Grimm said, giving a gentle smile. “They won’t be the same if they live, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I want you to be right, Grimm. I really, really do…” the White Lady said. “But do you truly believe that?”

“I do,” he said.

The White Lady nodded in response.

The three gods sat there in silence for a long, long time, all just staring at the black egg. Grimm let his mind drift to dreams and ideas of what would come out of it hatched. Perhaps a child with the wyrm’s face and the root’s proportions. Maybe one with the inverse. Or what if one got both the roots and the crown? And maybe they’d inherit their parents’ aptitudes, encouraging life and thought alike wherever they went.

The root had much calmer hopes. All she dared to desire was that it hatched at all. Just a child, any child, and she’d love them until the end of time. As long as they lived, she would think herself the luckiest mother in history.

All the while, the wyrm held out nothing. He’d drifted off into that cold, familiar non-place in his mind where there was nothing to think about. In there, he had no guilt, no sorrow, no hope, no joy—not that he would have had the latter two anyways. It would be a miracle in and of itself if the egg stayed intact for more than a few days outside of the void, let alone hatched. He was the first to get up.

“I… I want to stay, but-”

“You’re a king. We’ll be here,” Grimm said without looking at him. The wyrm nodded before turning and slipping out of the surrounding covers. Hours passed by with just the White Lady and Grimm sitting in silence.

“I need to rest, Grimm,” she said, standing up from her seat. “I will return; I promise.”

“Just a sec,” Grimm responded before vanishing, only to return a moment later with a full tray of food. “You’re good.”

“May I ask what that might be for?” She questioned, tilting her head slightly.

Grimm looked her in the eyes. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“Sleep well, root,” Grimm said, setting the tray down where the Lady has been sitting a few moments prior.

“Thank you, Grimm,” the White Lady responded. “For everything that you do for myself and our wyrm.”

“Yeah,” Grimm said, his eyes darting away. “Sorry about how harsh I was earlier—and can you tell the wyrm I say that to him as well?”

“Of course, Grimm, and it’s quite alright. We both deserved it.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you both were already hurting. I could’ve done with being a bit calmer.”

“It’s all passed now,” the root responded. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” She ducked out of the holding area.

“See ya…” Grimm mumbled as he stared at the egg some more.

He went on for hours upon hours like that, simply watching the egg and letting himself drift off into daydreams of what might happen when it hatched, not letting himself consider if it would hatch at all. The next day came, Grimm’s eyelid putting him under the perpetual threat of rest, and, sure enough, the root returned, giving a gentle smile to him. While she watched the egg, he rested, the two of them sharing the food he’d brought whenever Grimm wasn’t asleep. Eventually, however, she had to leave again.

Then came the wyrm. Grimm gave him a soft smile, reminding him that there was some small chance it would hatch. The King nodded solemnly, some part of him wanting to lean into the notion. Grimm took the time that the wyrm sat by the egg to return to his Troupe, get caught up on the latest happenings therein, bathe, and get more food before returning to the egg.

The three began to settle into a pattern—a routine, almost. Grimm would wait and watch for hours and hours, eating whatever food he had all the while. Then the White Lady would arrive, and Grimm would sleep for the five hours she stayed. She’d wake him as she prepared to leave, and he’d stare at the egg for a while longer, waiting until the Pale King showed up. After that, it was the same pattern as the first time: Troupe, news, bath, food, return, all over the course of the hour that the King sectioned out for the egg. There was the occasional day when the wyrm would stay for two, and the two lovebirds simply spent that time talking with each other.

“Grimm?” The King asked on one of those days.

“Yes?” He responded.

“Can you ever forgive me for this?”

“Maybe. But not yet,” Grimm said.

The Pale King nodded.

Days turned to weeks; weeks turned to a month; one month turned to two, eventually turning to three. All the while, Grimm’s drive didn’t cease, even when his hopes faltered, even when he thought about giving up. He didn’t let himself.

“Mrm… you always were stubborn,” Brumm said on one of his visits to the Troupe.

Finally, however, three months, one week, and four days into his time waiting at the egg, Grimm heard it. He thought it was an illusion, a trick of his desperate mind while it was off in another daydream, until he heard it again. A crack. A third echoed around the cavern a moment later, followed by four, five, six, and Grimm was on his feet.

“All holy gods, please…” he said, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared at it before he ducked out of the tent for a moment, looking for someone, anyone to call to. There was only the Kingsmould, but it would have to do. He breathed a little flame into his hands before dropping it into the crown of the creature and hoping the King would get the meaning.

“Deliver that to the King as fast as you can,” he said, and the Kingsmould took off a moment later. Three more cracks pounded from within the egg, and Grimm ran a hand along its surface as he moved around it. “Please…” he whispered, blinking away tears.

The Kingsmould arrived at the palace only a couple of minutes later, bursting into the throne room midway through some noble’s speech about an irrelevant issue. It slammed itself down on a knee, bending its head so that the little flame fell out of its head. The King’s eyes widened the moment it hit the floor, and he sprang up out of his throne barely a second later.

“Send for the queen; tell her it’s Grimm,” he said to a retainer, dropping all pretense of royal formality. “Court is canceled for the rest of today,” he continued, striding out of his palace and down towards the door to the Abyss. The Kingsmoulds at the gate blocked any nobles or aristocrats attempting to follow him. The root wasn’t far behind him, moving right through the throne room and out the door, quickly catching up to her wyrm.

“Do you think that it’s time?” She asked.

“Must be,” the King replied.

The sound of cracking echoed as the two approached the egg, getting louder and louder as they approached the curtained area. They flipped one of the curtains open, half-running into the area as a series of six louder cracks echoed. Grimm knelt on the other side of the egg, beaming at the two of them as they entered. Two more cracks followed, punctuated by a much louder snap as a part of the egg flew away. The three of them all quickly moved to where the hatchling had started to break through, Grimm kneeling between the wyrm and root as more bits of the egg were punched away by the little thing inside. The crack in the surface split wider and wider, and a little hint of a white mask began to peek through it.

With one final push, the hatchling burst through the shell, stumbling into Grimm’s arms as he caught them. They looked up, displaying their white mask with two horns with a pair of smaller points about halfway down them. The rest of their body was a soft black mass with the shape of a torso, two arms, and two legs. They tiled their head at Grimm.

“Oh, you sweet little…” he said, cradling their head into his chest. The two royals ran their hands over the little thing’s mask gently as Grimm held it like the child it was. He looked back at the egg for a moment with a smile, only for it to falter when he saw another white shape on the other side. He gently handled the child to the White Lady.

“King…” he said, pointing at the thing. “Look.”

The King’s expression snapped from unadulterated bliss to something much more frightened as he caught sight of the little white thing at the other side. He slipped a hand in, letting it glow brighter to reveal another white head with two horns, this time with a pair of forked points at the very end.

“Oh no…” he mumbled, reaching closer towards the being’s cheek, only for it to twitch away. The wyrm pulled his hand back immediately, and the child’s head turned again, this time to the other side before it rolled back over and lifted itself to its hands and knees. The King reached out for them, finding his arms a bit too short.

“Here,” the root said, handing him the first child. He pulled his hand out to gently take hold of them as his wife reached in, gently taking hold of the newest little one and pulling them out.

“Twins,” Grimm said with a happy smile, running his hand across the second’s head. “Beautiful twins.” His voice wavered for a few moments before he fell into full-on tears. The root and her wyrm weren’t too far behind. The Troupe Master stepped back a little bit so that he could look at both of the children simultaneously.

“Grimm?” The wyrm asked.

“Yes?” He responded.

“Thank you,” the King replied, lifting one of his lower arms to scratch the forehead of the child in his arms. They wiggled their little arms and feet in response. “For never giving up.”

“I couldn’t,” Grimm replied. “Not while there was a single chance for these two to make it out alive.”

“There will never be enough that we can do to thank you,” the White Lady said.

“Well, there is one thing…” Grimm responded.

“And what would that be?”

“Raise them well,” Grimm answered. “And I’ll be here every step of the way, if you’ll let me.”

“Grimm,” the Pale King said. “How could we not?”

The wyrm smiled, followed by the root, and Grimm followed her at last before he pulled them into a hug.

Their first hug as a family.

**Author's Note:**

> @pocket-infinity on tumblr
> 
> Also, if you're wondering how, exactly, Grimm & Radi's telepathy works, they're basically using other people's minds as a network to bounce between until they can reach each other.


End file.
